


We are here for you

by inquisitor_acorn (acornchild)



Series: The Inquisitor Trevelyan Story [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Gen, Inquisitor contemplates the mark, Missing Scene, Original Character(s), POV is a mess, Solas and the inky are friends, Solas is not helpful, Solas' POV maybe?, enjoy, just very angsty and lonely really, post-Adamant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25077748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acornchild/pseuds/inquisitor_acorn
Summary: The Inquisitor always has questions for Solas. Today's ones are barely asked and go unanswered.
Relationships: Male Trevelyan & Solas
Series: The Inquisitor Trevelyan Story [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816168
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	We are here for you

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first ever posted work on anything ever please be gentle :)))  
> No, I do not have a very good grasp of writing conventions. I wrote this at 2a.m. after thinking of sad things so here it is. The Inquisitor is probably at his loneliest in this one, and one day I might write more on why. 
> 
> I wanted to edit more but if I do I'll never end up posting it so HERE WE GOOOO...

They were speaking on the balcony in the Inquisitor's quarters. The same spot where Solas had declared him friend not too long ago.

"Solas," the Inquisitor started warily while looking down at the mark, seeming to struggle to find the right wording, "it was killing me, those first few days, when the Breach was unstable. It was spreading."

Solas waited patiently for a question, as usual, though he sensed he would need to wait very carefully this time. The Inquisitor was frowning, words painstakingly drawn out of his lungs, a far cry from the enthusiastic and slightly childish curiosity he was usually met with when discussing matters of the Fade.

"What is it? What does it do?"

The Inquisitor knew this. This is the wrong question, but his tongue seemed tied in knots.

Solas replied dutifully. "We know it came from an Elven artifact that channels magical power. Corypheus wanted to use it as a key to enter the Fade. It seems to allow you to be there physically, to dream with clarity, to disrupt the Veil or mend it as you please."

The Inquisitor's eyes were cast down to his left hand, staring at the wisps of green but lost in thought. After a moment's silence and a soft sigh, he opened his mouth to speak again.

"What does it do... to me?" His eyes were still cast downward but gaze shifted slowly between them. "How does it link me to the Fade? Is this energy, or does it have substance like lyrium? Is it plastered on my arm like armour, embedded like a tattoo, or is it part of me?"

The more he spoke, the more he gained momentum and voice.

"Is the magic fully external? Self-sufficient? Or does it draw on me like a parasite? The Breach is closed, stable, yet the mark still works. Does it stop working when I close all the rifts? I close them but the mark still grows. Very slowly but I can feel it." As stuttered and choked off his first few words were, he was now drawing laboured breaths. Whatever had sealed his words in now seem to push them out of his lungs in a rush, and he needs to take the time to breath least it overwhelms him.

Solas in the meantime was growing concerned, but the point of the discussion seemed clearer. Why they were speaking privately, why the Inquisitor could barely bring himself to speak, why he brought up the mark. It was painful to hear, but he made himself wait patiently for the Inquisitor - his friend - to ask. 

After the Inquisitor steadied himself, as if breaking suddenly while running down a hill, his words were battered and bruised.

"How fast does it spread? Will I see the Inquisition through?"

Solas waited.

"Do I get to live? When I am no longer needed."

Barely a whisper, but Solas recognized the pain and loss he saw in Iron Bull, when he became Tal-Vashoth. The same uncertainty and dread over a fate that was outside of one's control. The Inquisitor is a person beyond his title, despite his best efforts to appear immovable in public. A person who feels pain, who feels fear. Who seeks expertise and reassurance. A friend. Solas dropped his tone to one that he thought sounds comforting, and hated himself. For now, he could still be his friend.

"I am sorry, _lethalin_. I do not know."

A sad laugh from the Inquisitor tells him he expected as much.

The Inquisitor gathered himself quickly and clasped his hands casually at the back as he does. The raw desperation that brought his eyes to life a moment ago was fading right back where it came from.

"Of course. You would have told me if you did. Thank you, Solas", he breathed, tired, and the conversation was over as abruptly as it had begun.

"I suspect a lot of answers lie with the orb. Until we acquire it, we can only guess." He raised a steadying hand and put it on his shoulder, in reassurance. "I'm sorry I cannot give you the certainty you seek, my friend. But I am here for you. We are here for you."

The words were heartfelt, and Solas hoped the ball of lead he felt in his stomach hadn't noticeably strained his voice. With that, he thought it best to leave and give the Inquisitor some time alone.

Meanwhile, choirs of " _We are here for you, Inquisitor_ " and " _At your service, Your Worship_ " rang in a blur of voices through the Inquisitor's head. 


End file.
